the slender, young baron. The sleeves of his doublet were so long that
they fell over his hands, which were small and shapely, and there were
large iron spurs on the clumsy, old-fashioned riding-boots he wore.
These shabby, antiquated clothes had belonged to his father; they were
made according to the fashion that prevailed during the preceding
reign; and the poor young nobleman, whose appearance in them was both
ridiculous and touching, might have been taken for one of his own
ancestors. Although he tenderly cherished his father's memory, and tears
often came into his eyes as he put on these garments that had seemed
actually a part of him, yet it was not from choice that young de
Sigognac availed himself of the paternal wardrobe. Unfortunately he had
no other clothes, save those of his boyhood, long ago outgrown, and so
he was thankful to have these, distasteful as they could not fail to be
to him. The peasants, who had been accustomed to hold them in respect
when worn by their old seignior, did not think it strange or absurd to
see them on his youthful successor; just as they did not seem to notice
or be aware of the half-ruined condition of the chateau. It had come so
gradually that they were thoroughly used to it, and took it as a matter
of course. The Baron de Sigognac, though poverty-stricken and forlorn,
was still in their eyes the noble lord of the manor; the decadence of
the family did not strike them at all as it would a stranger; and yet it
was a grotesquely melancholy sight to see the poor young nobleman pass
by, in his shabby old clothes, on his miserable old pony, and followed
by his forlorn old dog.

The baron sat down in silence at the table prepared for him, having
recognised Pierre's respectful salute by a kindly gesture. The old
servant immediately busied himself in serving his master's frugal
supper; first pouring the hot soup--which was of that kind, popular
among the poor peasantry of Gascony, called "garbure"--upon some bread